


Voyage into the Void

by BeardedFrog



Category: Prometheus (2012)
Genre: F/M, android repair, robot-human friendship, strange robot romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-16 05:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeardedFrog/pseuds/BeardedFrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last android and crew member of the Prometheus keep themselves entertained (for the android) and sane (for the human) as unanswered questions of the Engineers, the company, the mission, themselves, persist. Platonic, but might evolve into something strangely romantic in the future.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Launch

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from FF.net.
> 
> This started out as a mini-conversation between Shaw and David in my head shortly after seeing the film back in June, then it became something much more sophisticated. Thus was born a scenario where David and Shaw kept each other entertained with a slew of unanswered questions and observations as they traveled to the Engineers' homeland, while I tried to find a way to tie it back into "Alien" and "Aliens."
> 
> Critiques, comments and suggestions are highly sought.

**I: LAUNCH  
**

_"We live as we dream - alone."_ \- Joseph Conrad **  
**

* * *

Getting a decapitated, yet still functioning, android to assist in the start-up of an alien ship turned out to be more difficult than it had played out in her mind. While he helped with the initial start-up and getting the systems online and active, the manual work was up to her. Even as he watched across from her, his cranium resting atop of a bio-mechanical module, and guided her step-by-step on how to set up the coordinates, which gelatinous key to push, and how to read the holographic map, Shaw fumbled and was forced to start over twice. Thankfully, David's patience was endless and unyielding.

With the last stroke of the keys, the Engineer ship throbbed, then hummed to life. With no windows in the pilot chamber, only a periscope to see through, to give her a 180° view, her flying was limited; having absolutely no experience in flying a ship only exacerbated the dilemma. With his - no, _its_ , she reminded herself - face was bathed in a blue glow from the module, masked in an unsettling collective calm, David continued to give her directions on how to steer, his eyes never leaving her's.

Shaw felt the powerful tug of gravity as the ship rose and ascended up into the higher atmospheres. She tilted the ship here and there with the foreign, yet highly sensitive instruments. All while she was clutching her still-raw, freshly-stitched abdominal incision.

The world through her scope darkened, the sky vanishing and clouds plummeting, as they left the damned planet behind.

* * *

"David."

"Yes, Doctor Shaw?"

"Were any of your investigations able to unearth up any clues, any hints... to see if we weren't the only species the Engineers were hostile towards?"

A pause. "No, I'm afraid I could not." While his voice was unreadable due to the damaged voice box's digital grizzle and static, she could make out a little hint of... disappointment? Of not finding an answer?

Shaw rustled through one of two duffel bags in frustrated silence. They were filled to the brim with necessities, medical supplies and tools she was able to scavenge from Vickers' lavish life-boat. She couldn't remember which bag where she stuffed...

"Then," she started, after she finally fished out the metal container, almost measuring three feet long, "why the excessive stockpiling of biological weapons? They would have only needed a dozen of those cylinders to wipe us out." She hauled the toolbox to the android: his head leaned on the arm of a star-map observation throne, while his body sat before him, its back propped against the edge of the seat.

"It is plausible these beings unleash malice not _just_ towards _us_... but, possibly towards one another."

With the flick of the clasp, the cantilever trays popped open, with more miniature trays on the sides unfurling. Strange apparatuses and devices lay before her. Her brows furrowed, then flicked her eyes back to him. "Much like how... some mobs, clans or nations of humans wage conflict against another?"

"Religious fundamentalism. Political sabotage. Genocide. After all, aren't you built from their very image?" David quipped.

True. More than just physical traits were passed down from creator to the creation...

Shaw pulled out a high-tech soldering iron, studying it. It was nothing like the ones she had seen back on Earth. "David, what tools will I need for this operation?"

The android motioned with his eyes. "You will need that soldering iron in your hand, the pair of tweezers, clamps, wire snips and pliers at the very bottom, plus those extra bundles of fiberwires and cords." She fished out what was needed.

"Wait." He interjected. Her head snapped up. "Please get the lubricant as well."

"Is it in cans or vials?"

"A metal vial."

Shaw returned with her arms full. Setting them aside in a neat line, she then turned to David's body, placed it down on the ancient floor. His head laid, face-up, before his ghastly wound.

"What do I need to do first?" Her voice wavered, unsure if this amateur mechanic job would help or hurt.

"Press the button on the side, an applicator should come out." With a press, a small shield slid and out popped a butter knife-life applicator with a smooth, but finely-porous end. That in hand, Shaw unscrewed the long, metal vial's cap.

"Dip it into the vial, and apply the oil onto the wires."

"The fiber-optic wires or the thick chords?"

"Fiber-optic. Please apply it to both my neck and the wound site."

She did as requested; once she slathered the milk-like lubricant onto the fiber filaments, the wire ends blinked once, then glowed brightly to life.

"Now... bring the clamps, pliers, and soldering iron," David continued. She began stabilizing the thicker 'spinal' cords, embedded with marble-like orbs (or were they cysts?), holding a few in place with the clamps and pliers. After giving a generous smothering of solder wick, Shaw began the delicate, laborious task of re-connecting his cervical connections.

At one point, sparks flew due to the naked end of an active wire grazing the metal tips of the pliers, causing David to erupt in a series of violent facial tics.

"David! Are you alright?" Shaw held his skull in place as the tics subsided.

"It is nothing. Please continue the operation." He replied, voice rushed but not breathy nor panicky, blinking a few times to get his eyes to stop rolling.

"Reconnecting is far from a ... _painless_ process, is it not?" She said, slightly exasperated, and irritated, at his denial.

"The trick, Doctor Shaw, is not minding that it hurts."

* * *

**TBC**


	2. Puzzle Pieces

**II: PUZZLE PIECES**

* * *

Shaw gently strummed the harp-like wires, kept together by sturdy electrical tape that supported his cervical region, acting as synthetic tendons and muscle fiber. They seemed to be holding up. Almost an hour ago they were split, frayed and useless. With some of lubricant, careful positioning and a roll of electrical tape, the fiber-optical wires were able to slowly mend themselves.

His system's ability to send and receive electrical impulses were nowhere near as strong as pre-injury levels; he was able to 'breathe' albeit he was short of breath. The titanium alloy vertebrae were popped back into place; his esophageal reflexes were normal and could swallow upon command. However, Shaw could not determine exactly how limited his ability to walk, move, or execute commands that required fine-motor skills, until he tried.

"It looks like we're almost done," She huffed, sweeping back her sweat-matted hair with a cramped, strained hand. "David, are you able to move anything?"

David was affirmative he could not move a digit nor limb for quite some time, but he could not disobey her order. What harm is there in trying?

Shaw watched with rapt attention: while she couldn't see under his suit whether he was straining to move, his arms did give a jitter, a twitch or two, and could see his hands slightly flex.

She cracked a tired smile. "That's a good start." She sighed. David felt a warm buzz at her approval.

"All that is left to repair is your voice-box... what will I need to fix this?"

"Keep everything you already have on hand. Please bring the crimpers, fuse pullers, blade fuses, the small insulated screwdriver, nano-splices and cable tie." She brought the requested items, then gently pushed up the still tattered and torn artificial skin, mushrooming out of his zipped-down suit, which had stopped at his shoulders.

"What does the voice-box look like?"

"Ovaloid, slightly wishbone in shape." With gentle fingers she pried a few cords aside and found it. It was very much like a human larynx and appeared to be intact, minus the slew of dangling, severed ribbon-like wires on the bottom.

"It doesn't appear to be damaged," Shaw remarked.

"Please look inside to be certain." David recommended. She grabbed a screwdriver with the tiniest of heads to unseal the larynx container. Miniature fluttering pumps and eyelash-thin wires nestled within. Every mechanical bit as so finely detailed and delicate. Yet, it was still a simple audio device.

If she were to just tear it out, he would be just a voiceless a doll.

As tempted as she was, she needed his guidance to reach her goal, and his conversations to keep her mind from going astray... and maybe squeeze some answers about Weyland and his company.

"Doctor Shaw?" A calm voice broke her train of thought, snapping back to the present.

"Y-Yes?"

"Lost in a daydream?" He asked, almost innocently. Almost.

She tensed; she did not enjoy being read like an opened book. "No, I was thinking about how I would go about fixing your larynx cords."

"Your face says otherwise: your pupils were dilated, along with minimal eye movement and decreased breathing rate." David corrected.

Shaw clenched her teeth as she banished the urge to short circuit him. "The internal structures looks perfectly fine." She growled.

"Splendid."

After sealing the larynx capsule shut once more, Shaw spliced the damaged ends and reconnected them with the replacements. Another thirty minutes passed. "David, recite the alphabet." She ordered.

"A, B, C, D, E, F..."

"Good," Shaw concluded, her spirits lifted a little. "But, your voice still sounds somewhat fuzzy."

"As long as I am fluent and coherent, I am content." The android watched in the corner of his eyes as she began returning the tools and replacement parts away. She scooted over with something else in hand.

"What do you have there?" His curiosity was immediately apparent.

"An extra attachable soldering pick and..." Shaw held the spool of wire by the small electric lantern. "Micro-tubing. It's the only materials there are to use as a substitute stitch kit. But we seem to have a problem..."

"And that is?"

"I don't have anything to make a hole in the soldering pick. I need an eye in order to pass the tubing through."

"I might be able to solve that."

Shaw sat back on her knees. "And how will do you it?"

"My teeth are strong enough to puncture it."

She looked befuddled. "Are you sure they won't break?"

"I can assure you they will not."

She leaned forward to hold his head still as she placed the pinky-width soldering pick into his mouth.

"A little to my left."

"Left, where?"

"Incisors."

Lined up with his teeth, David bit down and moved his jaw a smidge here, a smidge there, until a tiny crack echoed. She took a look at his handiwork: a small puncture the width of a staple. Not bad. Shaw grabbed a screwdriver with a miniature pointed head and dug it into the pick, trying to create a wider, more circular hole. Eventually satisfied, she drew an inch or two of tubing from the spool, only to struggle tying a knot due her fingers being hampered by the thick space suit gloves.

Frustrated, she pressed a button along the nape of the helmet-hinge with a little more force than necessary: there was a click and the zipper was unlocked. She unzipped to her shoulder blades, slipped only her arms out, and went back to her task. Her extra fibrous-rubber skin hung limply much like a banana peel, still covered in milk-like 'blood' when she had to plunge a hand down his thoracic cavity to grab certain severed wires.

Shaw can just hear Charlie snark: _Why the hell are you putting that **thing** back together?_

She owed David one: he helped get them both off that god forsaken planet and, hopefully, on the right course to the Engineers' homeland. Someone had to put the puzzle pieces back together again - and that someone was her. 

"Tell me if you feel a pinch, okay?" Shaw asked. David could not nod yet, and answered with a raise in his brows. Flattening and aligning the edges of his lukewarm synthetic skin, she started sewing along the collarbone.

Her needle poked through. "Feel anything?"

"Dully."

It looped under and up through the nape of his neck. He flinched strongly.

"Had something there that time," Shaw remarked. The rest of the process was relatively silent; his flinches became more and more subdued as she went on. She eventually flipped him over to his side to continue.

"David," Shaw asked, breaking the silence between them. "When you were with Weyland, talking to the Engineer... what did you say to him?"

While Shaw might have been his new owner, spilling secrets was against company protocol. But, breaching it could be beneficial for both in the long run.

" 'This man is here because he does not want to die. He believes you can give him more life.' "

Her hand stopped during an upstroke. "That's all you asked? But, why did it attack..."

"I am not certain myself why it attacked."

"And you're sure it understood you?"

"If they are indeed your makers, their dialect would most likely be Proto-Indo-European. I had studied it during our two-year journey. It is the common ancestor of the European and Middle Eastern languages. If the research I was presented upon the Prometheus is correct, then the language the Engineers speak was passed down to humanity."

Shaw chewed on this revelation as she picked up where she left off on her mending. Why hadn't he told her about this information earlier? Then again, the entire crew's excitement to explore the silos was so infectious, they could think of little else.

"What made Weyland think the Engineers had the technology to grant him immortality? We have more than enough evidence to show they wanted to end lives rather, than extend them..." Shaw critiqued bitterly.

"He never offered any evidence. He explained it was his belief that the makers he longed to see would have powers or technology to help him defy death." David frowned. "I never understood why he clung on to it..."

"A person's faith is not always supposed to be understood," Shaw defended, a bit of bite in her voice, as she turned him onto his back once more, still stitching. "An explanation is not always needed."

"Then again," David continued, eyeing the silver chain of her cross that peeked out from the partially opened suit, "Seeing how the ship was named after the Titan, Sir Weyland must have viewed himself as such..."

The pieces came into place. She dropped her still-threaded 'needle' and wire spool atop of David's chest. It all made sense now.

"Because he planned to gain immortality for himself, and then pass the knowledge to the company." Shaw finished, stunned. "Then the company could have reaped massive profits on whatever immortality drug or device they concocted..."

She pulled away and raked her short hair a few times, trying to collect herself. This whole time this was one dying man's mission to ask their makers for a sample of their Fountain of Youth, under the guise of a science expedition. Shaw steadfastly refused taking the Lord's name in vain, but _goddamn_ , how bloody naive they were. All of them.

Her face fell into her hands as her elbows planted onto David's chest, berating herself for being used for someone else's wasted gain, with everyone but her and the android butchered in the end.

For now she was alone, a single soul trapped out in this frozen void. Lightyears away from the nearest human civilization; no chance of rescue or contact.

David watched her break over him in silence, analyzing this turmoil. He raised an arm with much difficulty, having it quake and shake as he moved it, but managed to place a gentle (but sloppy) hand on her exposed shoulder. She palmed her eyes, smearing tears away as she looked a him.

"We were both, if not all, fooled. Even with the confidential knowledge of his wishes, I could not predict his ulterior motive." David admitted.

Shaw inhaled a few times, with a stutter, to calm herself. "At least I know that humans aren't the only ones who can be tricked," she scoffed, as playfully as her sullen mood allowed it.

David responded with a light chuckle. Shoving her anger aside, she finished sewing him up.

"Almost there..." She tied a knot by her starting point, grabbing a sophisticated Swiss-army knife from the toolbox. Flicking out the knife set, she sliced off the excess tubing.

"Finished," she declared.

"May I see the results?" David requested.

"Hold on, hold on," Shaw assured. She darted back to one of the duffel bags, scrounged until she grabbed a square of microfiber cleaning cloth, and a small mirror she knicked from Vickers' lifeboat. She brought it above his face, propping him up with an arm.

"Pull back a bit... there." His cerulean eyes studied her handiwork. He had an expression of satisfaction. "And it won't become undone?"

"The tubing was made of a tough plastic of some sort, and I double-knotted the knot."

"Perfect."

"How long did you say it would take to be completely reconnected?"

"I initially estimated a five hour recovery period but..." He strained to raise his arms, only able to get them to 'hover,' "seeing how much progress my system is making already, it may only take half that time."

"Good." Shaw had slipped her arms back into her space suit. She licked a corner of the cleaning cloth, wiping up the dried 'blood' that crusted his mouth, neck, ears and nostrils. "Now that's out of the way," She pulled away, searching through the other duffel once more."I need to attend to personal matters, if you don't mind."

"What matters, specifically?"

 _God_ , he was nosy. "Sleep. I'm exhausted." That was an understatement: given the events that had played out in the past forty-eight hours, she was nearing the edge of physical and psychological collapse. Yet, it wasn't in her nature to give into the avalanche of despair without putting up a fight.

She fished out two silvery emergency space blankets, waving a vacuum-sealed one in front of his face. "Need one?"

"Yes, please."

With the Swiss-army knife, Shaw tore it open and laid it upon him, the chrome folds reflecting the lantern light. After grabbing an extra set of company-issued clothing, and a large pillow she swiped the lantern and sauntered off in the direction of the ship console chair. David noticed her limp.

She began to mumble, "I'll be at the console if you..."

"Elizabeth." David called out. She stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of her first name, swiveled on her heels to see him. He had managed to turn his neck and head in her wake. Her face was bathed in electric lamp's yellow light, outlining the ridges and divots of her suit and space helmet-hinge.

"I sincerely thank you for repairing me -"

"It's not a -"

David interrupted, "With all the appreciation and gratitude I am able to articulate and express."

Was that his programming speaking to her, or was he truly sincere? Was it another baiting tactic? The way he looked at her, the expression of honesty, and his tone, in which he spoke, read endearing and genuine to her. But she could never be sure: he was, under the layer of synthetic flesh, a machine with cognitive functions and emotional mimicry.

After a long pause: "... You're welcome, David."

Shaw pursued her course. David watched her electric lamp bob into the distance until it was set down. Shifting his focus to the pilot chamber ceiling, he scrutinized the the long, warped bones that served as the ship's very 'skeleton.' Strong, curved, supportive. Much like a massive ribcage.

* * *

**TBC**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, critiques and suggestions are always welcome.
> 
> I made David stay immobilized to recover, and not have him up and running once re-connected, to keep him in tune to how androids (as well as Space Jokeys/Engineers and Xenomorphs) in the Alien-verse tend to be biomechanical. They bleed, cry, salivate, etc. and their organs are bizarre and organic but still highly technical. You can't just throw the head back onto the body and expect it work at 100% efficiency right off the bat.


	3. Unrest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is ridiculously short, but I have a reason. It was supposed to be much longer, but it kept clashing with the other scenes I had in mind so I felt it would be better if this bit stood on its own. The next chapter will be much longer, promise.
> 
> Comments, critiques and suggestions are always welcomed.

**III: UNREST  
**

* * *

Shaw shucked off her exploration suit and slipped on an extra Weyland-issued uniform, before settling herself into the enormous, bony stargazer pilot throne. She set the brightness of the electric lamp to a dim glow and placed it down by the foot of the pilot seat, throwing over the emergency blanket as sleep consumed her.

The present and the chaos that ensued forty-eight hours earlier melded and lingered in her mind.

* * *

At first glance, David appeared to be drowsily staring at the ceiling. Upon closer inspection, he was in stand-by mode, the android's equivalent to sleeping. There was no eye movement and his torso never rose, appearing convincingly dead to any unwitting human.

_c:\David8:\processing:?\standby_mode_   
_c:\David8:\processing:\diagnostics_run  
_

_\run:\CARDIOVASCULAR:100%_   
_\run:\SKELETON:100%_   
_\run:\MUSCLE:60%\connection_recovery_ongoing_   
_\run:\NEUROLOGICAL:100%_   
_\run:\MOTOR:55.4%\repair_ongoing_

_c:\David8:\DIRECTIVE:\Weyland\Preserve_life\immortal_technology_   
_c:\STATUS:\Weyland:deceased\programmer_null_

_c:\David8:\replace...programmer:\\_Shaw_ELIZABETH_   
_c:\David8:\REWRITE\accepted_

_c:\David8:\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\assist_ELIZABETH__   
_c:\David8:\REWRITE\accepted_   
  
_c:\David8:\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\\_Engineer_origin_   
_c:\David8:\REWRITE\accepted_

_c\David8:\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\\_Engineer_biology__   
_c:\David8:\REWRITE\accepted_

_c:\David8:\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\\_Engineer_culture__   
_c:\David8:\REWRITE\accepted_

_c:\David8\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\priority_ELIZABETH_lifespan_maintain_   
_\run:\hold..._   
_DENIED:Weyland_priority:1\other_priority_rescinded_   
_c:\David8\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\priority_ELIZABETH_lifespan_maintain_   
_\run:\hold..._   
_DENIED:Weyland_priority:1\other_priority_rescinded_   
_c:\David8\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\priority_ELIZABETH_lifespan_maintain_   
_\run:\hold..._   
_DENIED:Weyland_priority:1\other_priority_rescinded_   
_c:\David8\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\priority_ELIZABETH_lifespan_maintain_   
_\run:\hold..._   
_DENIED:Weyland_priority:1\other_priority_rescinded_   
_c:\David8\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\priority_ELIZABETH_lifespan_maintain_   
_\run:\hold..._   
_DENIED_

* * *

Jabbing pain of her abdominal incision woke her several times during her sleep. Not even in her dreams was she safe from its seething influence. In one, she was in the Prometheus mess hall with the crew members, in the midst of dinner. Pain erupted from her belly, interrupting the meal-time chatter, enough so to make her fall from her seat, clutching herself. ______  
______

When she thought it was subsiding, then came the wet smack: yards and yards of purple-red, pink entrails fell from her in great pools on the tiled floor. Shaw looked up, pleading for help as she tried to scoop and bunch them back into her body.

Charlie, Janek, Ford, everyone - even Vickers - just stared her down, gawking at the gruesome scene.

In another she was in bed with Charlie, back in her personal chamber, nothing but a cluster of amber candles lighting the room in halos. It gave the voice of romance and intimacy - until the pain returned. She curled up in a desperate hope it would dissipate. A bulge puckered on her abdomen. She scrambled out of instinct to get away; maybe go back to the Med-Pod, Charlie can help her get there, but where did he go-?

A sharp cone pierced through her skin, from within. Shaw gasped, heaved, unable to scream, pain and shock engulfing her. The wound became bigger, and out birthed a strange, jet-black... thing. Its slick head was anvil-shaped and much too top-heavy for its bony, rail-thin body. It sensed, turned to her -

It gave a hiss, a deep warble, then shrieked at her, its many slender jaws popping forth with sickening crunches, human-like teeth gleaming.

* * *

_c:\David8\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\priority_ELIZABETH_lifespan_maintain_   
_\run:\hold..._   
_DENIED:Weyland_priority:1\other_priority_rescinded_   
_c:\David8\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\priority_ELIZABETH_lifespan_maintain_   
_\run:\hold..._   
_DENIED:Weyland_priority:1\other_priority_rescinded_

_c:\David8\option:run_backdoor\_   
_c:\David8\DIRECTIVE_NEW:\priority_ELIZABETH_lifespan_maintain_   
_\run:\hold..._   
_DENIED_

_c:\David8\option:OVERRIDE_   
_\run:\overwriting\hold...  
_

* * *

There again was Charlie in her dream, but this time he was unharmed, thank God _._ They were in the ampule chamber, minus the urns, and he was silhouetted from a burning light from behind. She sprinted towards him, her space helmet slightly rattling, maybe they can get home together in one- ____  
____

No, he was on fire. Shaw rushed to him, attempting to tear off his exploration suit with her bare hands. She could barely pry it, for it stuck to him and stretched out like melted plastic. He collapsed and the fire that swallowed him only became larger; his skin bubbled, blistered and bled, reducing his body to a charred mass, his twisted legs and arms gone, now only mere stumps.

Yet, his head was intact, and detached from his blackened, broiled body, reminiscent of David's decapitated head. Shaw picked him up: he continued to howl in agony, his jaws agape and teeth exposed. Inky veins of a dark infection crept up whatever remained of his neck, up to his ears. She cradled Charlie's head, hushing and assuring him he was fine, that they'd fix him, heal him somehow, but she knew all too well it was of no use, as he wailed on in phantom pain.

Oily, black-blood tears welled and spilled forth from his eyes, glinting off the glow of her illuminated helmet. And from his nose, his ears, then oozed from his mouth. Just like when her father... her father...

* * *

**TBC**


	4. Aesculpalian I

Echoes of a noisy collapse yanked Shaw from her uneasy slumber. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she slowly wriggled to the edge of the pilot throne. Pain returned with vengeance in her abdomen the moment her feet touched the ground, her legs buckling. Knowing the aftermath of the operation was not without its lingering rawness, she was unfortunate to be denied the luxury to recuperate. Yet she was sure that the incision should be improving, not hurting more.

A line of red running across her uniform top caught her attention. She lifted the hem up past her navel: the incision site was becoming worse. It oozed bloodied pus and serous fluid. Skin around the staples were puckered and inflamed. Just her luck.

To top it off, she began to crave like something fierce, but couldn't put her finger on what. Certainly not food. She had two protein bars before she went to sleep.

Frustrated but undeterred, she bit back the pain as she made her way to the Orrey steps. There she found a fallen David, face-down and propping himself up with his hands. Hearing her approach, he craned his head up to see her, his blond hair in disarray.

"Doctor Shaw," he greeted. "It is good to see you awake."

Shaw rushed to assist. "Here, let me help," she offered, taking a long arm around her shoulder.

Helping an android stand up once more was far from a cakewalk. One moment, he was balanced. The next, he wobbled, and keeled over her. Quite a battle, for someone with a five-foot-four figure struggling to keep an android with a six-foot frame upright.

"My apologies," he rued, "My system has recovered but my gyroscopic apparatus is still rebooting."

"Is that why you fell?" Huffing, she pushed against his side.

"Correct."

Once balanced again, David gripped her firmly by the shoulders, his gaze distant as he used her as an anchor. He must have been trying to register the reconnections.

She then remembered his minor voice issue. "David, recite the alphabet for me again."

"A, B, C..."

"You can stop - the fuzz in your voice disappeared. Are you good for now?" Shaw asked.

His eyes snapped back into focus. "Yes I am, thank you."

"Now " She started, staring into his eyes. "I need you to tell us exactly where we are in terms of this ship's coordinates. I also need you to tell us where our destination is, and what the expected time of arrival will be. Can you do that?"

A knowing nod. "Yes, Doctor Shaw."

"Good. There are extra uniforms in those duffle bags if you wish to change. Meet me at the ship console when you're finished getting changed," she ordered.

He turned heel and went to hunt down his clothing as Shaw limped off to the controls. Once there, she had to lean against the chair arm to gather hear bearings, waiting for the throbbing in her abdomen to ebb away again.

Like a ghost, David was at her side once more, spooking her momentarily.

"David, don't do that!" She gasped, hand clutching heart. "Make your presence a little more audible."

"My apologizes. I will keep that in mind for future reference."

Shaw returned her attention to the console. "Now, what are our current coordinates David? Where do we need to go and how long will it take us to get there?"

The android planted himself into the large pilot seat, his hands already pressing the array of fleshy, blister-like buttons. A miniature hologram display flickered before them, displaying sentences of glyphs and strange alphabets, as well as a small model of their ship, surrounded by a sea of blue constellations. He read it, his mind obtaining, translating and analyzing.

"From our system's topography, we are now two days worth of travel from LV-223," he announced.

"Two days? I thought we were farther along than that." Shaw exclaimed.

"This ship has not accelerated since we have left the planet." He tapped the hologram, and it pulled back, showing the Engineer ship's location: LV-223 was at least four inches behind it. "It has been merely been gliding."

"How can that be?"

"I am not certain. There is the possibility that it is related to having an absent Engineer pilot."

"But we were able to get this ship started up and running without it..."

"I was able to find a 'back door' in the system mainframe in order to start up the ship." Another series of smooth keystrokes on buttons flanking him. "However, that back door seems to have disappeared."

"How can a back door just vanish?"

David turned to her. "I will need to study the ship controls and technology further in order to understand why such a scenario can happen."

"So," she exhaled, frustrated, "what do we need to do now?"

"We must find either an Engineer on this ship," David said, his sights focused on Shaw licking her lips, "or create another limited window of opportunity to ignite the ship and have it run once more. Similar to what we were given when we left the planet."

"And if we don't, we will just cruise at a snail's pace, off into the road that leads to nowhere, to our oblivion." she murmured.

"Most certainly."

Leaning against the chair arm, Shaw mulled on the thought as she gazed into the map. She inhaled, "We might as well suit up and begin exploring this ship for any Engineer technology that can possibly help us." She departed from the module, marching around and up the podium steps towards the stargazer throne, to grab her exploration suit.

"It's better to find something than nothing." She caught the light, calculate steps of the android following her wake. "David."

"Yes, Doctor Shaw?"

"Do you have this ship's interior layout committed to memory?"

"Yes."

"Which 'wing' of the ship do you suggest we explore first?"

"The East Wing has considerably larger chambers."

"Then we will start there. We also need to search for any sources of food and water. You might be able run without them, but if we don't find either one, I'm done for."

Kneeling before the duffel bags, Shaw dove her hands inside and scrounged for a pulse scanner: primitive compared to the "Pups" Fifield had on him, it was still useful in searching for living organisms for up to fifty meters.

David knelt across from her, hands ready to plunge into the other duffel. "What other items will you need for this exploration trip, Doctor?"

"Take whatever tools are still attached to your suit's utility belt, and bring some excavation tools as well. Knives, chisels, so forth," she instructed, plucking out the scanner. "I'll grab another flashlight and the fire axe."

"I assume that will be taken along for protection?"

"Yes. Don't you need something to defend yourself?"

"No, that will not be necessary."

Shaw looked up, giving him a puzzled look. He was an android of course, built to have enhanced physical strength and speed, which was more than enough to defend himself. However, the lone Engineer's attack proved otherwise. He might not be at the same peak condition that he was before they touched down on LV-223.

"I would rather be safe than sorry, David."

"Doctor, there's no need to be..."

"I don't want to hear any excuses," she interjected, heatedly. David's eyes calmly flicked up to her's, noting how her jaw clenched.

Shaw never took her eyes off his as she reached into the back and produced the high-tech Swiss army knife, the same one she had used earlier to help cut the microtubing to sew him together. Casually tossing it to him, she added, "Please take it. Just in case." Much cooler, calmer now.

No grumbling, no smart-Alec comment; a small perk with being around an android. Flicking out the largest blade out, he examined it momentarily before carefully snapping it back in place and depositing the army knife into one of his utility belt pouches. Setting her items aside, Shaw stood to shake out her exploration suit.

"Doctor Shaw, have you considered the possibility that there could be no sources of food and water for you in the East Wing, let alone the entire ship?" His attention returned to his duffel, looking for other necessary gadgets.

"It _will_ be there." Conviction and confidence rung in her voice.

"How are you affirmative of this hypothesis? This ship could be another weapon cache, much like the previous one."

"David, there has to be food and water if this is a weapon's cargo ship," Shaw defended, as she shucked her uniform pants off and opened up the suit leg to step in. "The Engineers needed to have some sort of nourishment during their voyages, they're..."

The pause caught David's attention. Her face become askew with pain, clutching her belly with one hand, catching herself with the other she she crumpled. Without a word, the android was at her side, assisting her.

"David, I'm fine, I'm fine," she assured, with a wince.

"Doctor, do not act like I have _not_ noticed your limp and the bloodstain on your shirt."

"That's my fault. Whenever I accidentally twist the wrong way or run, the stitches-"

"That is not the reason for the bleeding. There is something wrong with your incision." He edged near.

"David, _please,_ " Shaw urged. That strange hunger was welling up again. "I'm fine. Just get me-"

"No, I need to examine you."

"God, no, just-"

"Doctor Shaw-"

"DAVID," she snapped, her hands shot out and shoved him away, agitated about his close proximity. The anger and heat that was merely hinted before returned again. Instead of surprise, David responded with a look of strange perplexity. Something was off about her: until now, never did he experience an angry flare-up with her.

"Ma'am, I believe you are not in the best condition to be exploring."

"I wouldn't be feeling like this if you'd just give me some those _bloody_ shots!"

His eyes narrowed, analyzing. "How many shots did you take during your Cesarian procedure?"

"I don't _know_ , just more than one-"

"You are experiencing morphine withdrawal. Any further activity would be highly unwise."

"David, no, I'm not - listen to me-" The android scooped her up before she could finish, peeling off the halfway-done exploration suit, now left wearing nothing more than her company-issued undergarments.

"Seeing to your health is top priority. Exploration can wait," David murmured, keeping himself amazingly balanced as he strode across the Orrey platform, carrying a protesting Shaw to one of the giant cryopods.

"David, put me down, _NOW._ "

"Certainly."

Carefully, she was lowered into the vacant pod, obsidian, organic in texture and sarcophagus in shape. "Please, just give me a shot and we can do this procedure when we're done investigating." She appealed, arms braced on the pod sides as she attempted to slip away.

David buffeted her with a strong hand on her sternum, knocking her back. "We have all the days ahead of us to search every square millimeter of this ship. Your time, however, is slipping unless your incision is treated now." His unnervingly blue eyes scanned her face, as if trying to read her thoughts.

"Now, if you can wait here patiently, I will be back with the necessary tools and anesthetics, if there are any at all." Removing his hand slowly, he departed.

With her nails digging crescents into her palms, the archeologist relented, slumping into the pod bed. Her instinct told her to run, but logic spoke otherwise: run, and David will only catch you. Run, and cause further damage to your poorly-recovering wound. Out came a heated sigh as a wave of aching pain ebbed forth again. She prayed silently to the Lord that this damned android wouldn't use this as an opportunity to take advantage and use her as a still-living cadaver.

* * *

Humans are such an emotionally-charged species. Why refuse his offer for medical assistance?

David searched through the duffels, never in a hurry, removing each item he fished out. He arranged them in precise, aligned order as he emptied each bag's contents.

His processor summoned a few hypothesis towards Shaw's erratic behavior. Was she still untrusting towards him after his refusal to help abort her 'nontraditional' fetus? Could she... _no._ He never spoke a word about spiking Charlie's drink outside of Weyland. Unless she had figured it out on her own. That cannot be the case, or else she would have violently retaliated against him by now upon discovery of her husband's demise.

His hands graced against the cool metal container: a med-kit. He pulled it out and opened it: several packages of gauze netting and pads, one very large bandage roll, a stitch pack, a large vial of saline cleaning solution, cotton swabs, and two antiseptic gels were packed inside. How fortunate.

He had been extensively trained for surgery procedures, but never had he proved his skills on an actual _patient_ before.

He returned to the massive cryopod Shaw rested in, medical kit, a pair of medical tweezers and forceps, and a few morphine shots in hand. Slipping out of his sandals, David perched himself on the wide pod-ledge.

"Doctor, where should we begin?" He asked, popping the lid open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N'S: Sorry for the long delay... I had to finish college... then came job hunting (which I managed to nab!) and with that, I had to move out of my hometown (but not out of state!) in order to work! It's been alot having to adjust to.


End file.
